Irony loves company
by potterafficionatada
Summary: I know I had been pretty lucky this far, but right now I think it couldn't get much worst -I reside permanently in Hell Street, in Misery Boulevard. I knew sometime I'd fall for him, I just thought he would be there. It seems irony also loves company."


_**Hi, this is just supposed to be fun. No pretensions with this one. Just to get it out of my system I suppose. Hope you like it. Review if you can: it'll make my day. Thanks! Oh, and obviously I don't own anything except my deranged ideas.**_ **_PA_**

I know I had been pretty lucky this far, but right now I think it couldn't get much worst -I reside permanently in Hell Street, in Misery Boulevard. I knew sometime I'd fall for him, I just thought he would be there. It seems irony also loves company. I mean, he's been on my case since God knows how long and I have tried literally everything to get him to let go. And now he finally has and it just makes me wanna drive my head into the nearest wall. Do you know how that feels? Let me tell you then: it feels pretty awful, that's how. And what makes it worse is the irony of it all. Of course it was written I would fall for him, it was like astrologically cosmically defined or something (please note the sarcasm here) but then me being me I just had to wait until he was no longer interested. Obviously that made sense. I mean why would I like someone who liked me back? That was just too easy for me. Lily Evans likes complicated ironically filled experiences, they are just _so _much more full. Yes, full of crap. And now I have to sit back here and watch as his perfect arms stretch perfectly and his perfect neck flexes slightly and his perfect eyes wrinkle slightly in the corner as he lets out that perfect laugh over something stupid his mate said. That's what I'm _forced_ to watch. Yes, _forced_, because really, I _can't_ look away. Do you know how that feels? Its just horrible to know that you are _that_ pathetic. And I know, oh do I ever.

He is looking at the teacher again, as if he didn't get freaking arithmancy better than anyone. His perfect white shirt is hugging perfectly his perfect broad shoulders and it makes me want to scream. This insane thing is driving me up the wall and I feel that I am reaching my limit. I close my eyes and count slowly to a hundred hoping that the bell will ring and end this torture. But it doesn't, because here in Hell Street nothing ever goes your way. And Karma or something like that has finally gotten my number and is making me see the error of my old ways. And I get, but really, there's only so much a girl can take. I mean, he could be cute and smart and I would be fine with that. Or he could be unnatractive but funny and that would be dandy with me, I know. Or he could be hot and dense, that I could totally deal with. But no, he just had to be...perfect. He just had to have the perfect smile, the perfect grades, the perfect witty comebacks and the perfect laugh. Not to mention the perfect arse. It was just so irritanting. Like just now, he was writing something down and his numbers were just so elegant and the way his hand moved was fluid and....

"Evans, stop staring. It really is making Prongsy here umconfortable." -Black called.

I imediatelly turned beat red. Of course. And then Black laughed. Oh, I'm going to kill him later. And I'll enjoy it too. The sodding idiot doesn't know whats coming for him. Everyone should be afraid of the wrath of Lily Evans, I'll tell you that.

"I'm not staring, Black." - I say in a surprinsigly even voice. "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, maybe because you think he is.... I don't know.... perfect."

My ability to speak has been completely wiped out. How on earth would he know that. Can he do that legimency stuff? I didn't think I could get any redder than I was but apparently I could, so now I am. I'm sure I look like a giant tomato or something equally stupid and that at anytime James will look at me and start laughing. Black will beg for mercy when I get a hold of him.

"What are you on about, Padfoot?" -I hear him say in that perfect timber.

"Evans, mate. She's staring at you with that glazed look as if you were the most perfect specimen to ever walk the face of the earth."

"Really?" -His perfect voice sounded again as I tried to voice my (fake) denial.

He turned to look at me. He obviously has spotted my subtle blush. He is starting to smile. Oh, my god, he's smiling fully at me now. I'm pretty sure my skin will never turn back to normal. He lifts an eyebrow at me and I sink lower into my sit. He smirks and turns back to his seat. I wish I could just die because he knows. I wish God would just strike me with thunder and get it over with. There's no way he doesn't know after this. Could it be more humiliating? Nope, I don't think so. The slowest five minutes on history pass here in arithmancy and my mind is stuck on thinking the same thing. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I try to decide wheter or not is worth delaying my suicide to kill Sirius Black first. And then the bell rings and as I'm just dumping all my stuff in my back he turns in his chair again.

"Hey, Evans, hogsmeade this weekend. You and me."-He calls with that perfect smile. "What do you say?"

"Sure".

To tell you the truth and I don't even how I answered, it was automatic response I suppose. But he smiled that perfect smile and before I knew I smiled back and Sirius Black barked a loud laugh and I felt like I could flutter what with all the butterflies raging inside me. And when I finally looked up again he was standing next to me and his perfect hand took my very unperfect crowded bag and slung it over his shoulder while he said:

"Great."

I'm deffinittely moving out of Misery Boulevard.


End file.
